


Cafe Green

by murphamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Favorite Author, M/M, Secret Identity, Writer Murphy, Writers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-07-07 09:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphamy/pseuds/murphamy
Summary: It's Bellamy's luck, and perhaps his misfortune, that he stumbles into his favourite author in his local and favourite coffee shop, Cafe Green.Cafe Green is not just a home for good books and coffee. It's a place to make memories, fall in love and write your own stories.





	1. Chapter 1

Bellamy steps into Cafe Green and the rich aroma of ground coffee beans hits him immediately. He pauses in the doorway and breathes in deep, revelling in bitter coffee mixed with caramel, peppermint and pumpkin spice. Coffee is one of Bellamy's main passions in life, second only to his sister. His days are doomed unless he starts them with a strong, tall and piping hot vanilla macchiato with two extra shots. If he doesn't get his coffee, his mood nosedives and by lunchtime he contemplates murdering his coworkers. Coffee is his best friend and confidant, and he's a firm believer that Cafe Green brews the best.

Cafe Green's interior is perfectly to Bellamy's taste as much as the drinks. He steps inside and he's transported to a grand library, bookshelves towering from floor to ceiling with paperbacks and hardbacks in every colour imaginable. The tables and booths are earthy; brown tops with green cushions and tablecloths, sunflower yellow vases with freshly cut roses and tulips inside. Where books don't line the walls, art does. Each watercolour of English countryside is framed in a distressed amber wood, and Bellamy loves to admire them.

He loves to sit by the window when he comes to drink coffee in the rain. Watching the clear drops patter onto the old cobblestone street the cafe sits on makes him feel like a character in a Jane Austen novel. He sits with a good book and he reads until it's closing time and he has to step out into the soft rain with no umbrella. Today, it's raining heavier than usual. Bellamy peels off his leather jacket and flicks his wet hair. He hooks his jacket up by the door and approaches the panelled coffee bar. 

"Welcome to Cafe Gr- oh, Bellamy!" 

"Hello, Harper. Have they left you alone again?"

Harper smiles. Bellamy returns the smile as hers is both beautiful and contagious. Two years diligently coming to Cafe Green every morning and evening has bestowed him with two good friends in Monty and Harper Green, the owners. Their employees, Monroe and Jasper, he's also familiar with.

"It's never busy on Thursdays," Harper says. "I wouldn't mind so much but baby keeps demanding I put my feet up."

Bellamy grins. "Not long until due date now."

"Geez Bellamy, you have no idea. I can't wait. It's so frustrating having to wait to hold him and cuddle him and show him the world."

"You're going to be a fantastic mother, Harper."

"I hope so," she says. "What can I get you today?"

"Can I get a strong caramel latte with almond milk?"

Harper nods and begins making his drink as Bellamy claims the armchair in the window by hanging his messenger bag over it. There are only three other customers in the cafe this evening, and all of them sit in silence. Two girls in school uniforms have their laptops out on their table, and notebooks open next to sprawled pens, highlighters and erasers. The other customer is a younger man than Bellamy, and he frowns and sighs as he scribbles over what might be a dissertation or a manuscript, or maybe a business proposal. He has an awful habit of creating stories in his head for strangers, and he pretends this man is a studying student editing his thesis. His hair is messy and his narrowed eyes are surrounded by bluish bags. It reminds Bellamy of his own time at college.

Harper brings Bellamy's coffee on a silver tray with a complimentary slice of walnut cake, and she fondly ignores Bellamy's protesting. He's not overly chivalrous or anti-feminist, but he hates the thought of her overexerting herself when she's eight months pregnant and quite frankly as enormous as an elephant.

Bellamy absentmindedly plucks a wooden fork from the bamboo cutlery pot on his table and takes a bite of the cake, savouring the nutty caramel sauce that's deliciously creamy and warm. He feels like a kid in a candy store when he gets treated to on-the-house cake or pastries. Monroe's baking is the best. She's a small town prodigy if Bellamy knows anything. He takes another bite of the moist cake and lets it melt in his mouth as he stands and wanders the edges of the shop, surveying the countless books for something to pique his interest. 

A burgundy cover captures his attention and Bellamy's scrutinises the blurb. It's bland, only two sentences long with a three word review from George R. Martin reading "Sexy and scary!", but it's the author that Bellamy frowns at. Richard Harmon. He recognises the author; he has written many of Bellamy's favourite novels and most of them he has found in the cafe. For all its charm, it's a shame the books are not alphabetised as Bellamy had no idea there were others by Richard. He opens to the first page and skims over the dedications and acknowledgements.

 

 

_I dedicate this book to my dear friends Clarke and Lexa and to their bubbly daughter Costia. May your love and spirit shine in Eliza and Alycia. Thank you to Niylah for your neverending support, and to Finn Collins for your diligent editing. Thank you to Clarke once again for a stunning cover. Most importantly, thank you to my loyal readers without whom this book could not come into fruition._

 

 

It's a funny thing, the acknowledgments page. After the blurb, it's the first thing Bellamy reads. The qualities of an author can be given away in those few short sentences. Bellamy closes the book and returns to his spot. He finishes the cake and his coffee before he picks it up again, thumbing the spine as if it would reveal all its secrets at once. It's either a new book or one that has rarely been read, if at all. 

Bellamy opens the first page and is careful not to crease the spine. The first page arrests him into a decaying world overrun by the living dead. There's an immediate onslaught of frothing mouths dribbling crimson and mindless enemies that cannot die. The immersion is fantastic. It's unlike anything he has ever  read by Harmon and Bellamy manages to finish the book in one evening. It's sad and beautiful, and the sexy and scary comment is definitively true. For such a dark story it's also filled with underlying hope and the promise of a good future. Bellamy closes the book with a content sigh and checks his watch.

21:56

The shop is empty except for himself, the student and Harper. Bellamy isn't aware of how many customers have been and gone as four hours managed to fly by under his nose. He stretches his legs and yawns sleepily, hand coming to cover his mouth just in time. Harper is cleaning as Bellamy puts the book back where he found it. The student is slumped over the table, fast asleep. Bellamy moves the tray from his table onto the countertop, and Harper denies his request to help. Instead she gestures to the sleeping customer, says his name is Murphy, and pleads with Bellamy to wake him up gently.

"Hey, dude," Bellamy says quietly. The student - Murphy - doesn't stir. Bellamy nudges his shoulder once, twice and then-

Murphy's gripping Bellamy by the front of his jumper and his chair clatters to the floor. He relaxes after a tense moment and Bellamy smoothes the wrinkles out of his jumper.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Bellamy explains as Murphy gathers his shuffled papers and returns the chair to its rightful position. "Harper asked me to wake you as it's closing time."

Murphy scowls. He jams the papers into his rucksack, creasing the pages. He zips it up with force and swings it over one shoulder. The student looks tired. Bellamy almost feels guilty for disturbing him. 

Murphy looks at Bellamy with a calculating stare. Bellamy can't figure out what he's thinking. "How was the book?" he asks. 

"The book? Oh! The one I was reading? It was great. Have you read it before?"

Nodding and muttering 'something like that' under his breath, Murphy brushes past Bellamy. He calls a short thank you to Harper over his shoulder, and Bellamy watches as the young man steps out into the pouring rain wearing nothing but skinny jeans and a t-shirt. 

Bellamy frowns. "Are you alright closing up?" he asks to Harper. Harper grins and waves a foam-covered hand at him from the sink. 

"Monty's a minute away. You go before this rain becomes a monsoon."

Bellamy grabs his bag from the armchair and his jacket from the coat rack. He zips up the leather and as he steps out into the miserable weather, Monty comes crashing through the door in a drenched navy hoody.

He greets Bellamy quickly and stumbles inside the dry building. Bellamy chuckles and jogs after the fading figure hobbling across the slick cobbles. "Hey!" Bellamy shouts, and then again a little louder when he's ignored or has gone unheard. 

The figure turns around when he dips under the overhang of a townhouse porch. "Are you stalking me?" Murphy confronts Bellamy angrily. "Whatever it is, I'm not interested."

Bellamy shudders as rain slides down the back of his neck. He squeezes next to Murphy out of the hammering rain. "No, no," Bellamy assures. "I just wanted to make sure you could get home okay."

"Ah. I'm staying at the Ark hotel so I'm good. It's only down the road."

"You from out of town?"

"Vancouver."

Bellamy nods thoughtfully. "What brings you here?" he asks and Murphy says "work" and leaves the rest to Bellamy's curiosity. So not a student.

Murphy shifts his weight to another foot. "I'm going to go," he shouts over the noise of the rain.

"Good luck! Don't drown."

Murphy throws him a crooked smile and he sprints into the dreary night, leaving Bellamy alone, feeling oddly wistful. Bellamy smiles to himself and he follows, running through the blinding pelts of water to home.

Once there, Bellamy strips of his soaked clothes in the entrance, and cradles them in his arms as he carries them to the dryer, grunting each step at the water dribbling onto the wooden floor. 

Very naked and extremely cold, Bellamy decides a shower is the most appropriate course of action for such appalling (read: cosy) weather. Hot water cascades over his ice cold skin, and Bellamy sighs blissfully. Under the burning stream, he reminds himself to google Richard Harmon in the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please talk to me! tell me what you like or what you think, or what you're expecting from this fic! i'd love to hear it <3
> 
> sidenote i wrote this in three hours and have yet to edit but i know if i don't post it now i never will


	2. Chapter 2

Friday starts poorly, but his spirits lift by the day's end.

Bellamy wakes up forty-five minutes late, meaning there's no time to run into Cafe Green for his usual dose of morning caffeine and is forced to settle for cheap sachet coffee at work. The station house's kettle is old and full of limescale, and no one ever buys fresh milk. Bellamy can only cringe as he drinks a mouthful or two, and dunks the cup into the sink, longingly watching the murky brown liquid spiralling down the drain. He sighs. He's not wasteful or much of a snob, but nothing is right with the world unless his first coffee of the day is good. He rinses the cup under a stream of cold water.

In his haste to leave, his uniform is all askew. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and the blazer jacket is wrinkled. Jaha has banned him from going on patrol today so he's stuck inside researching and filing. Bellamy glances down at his clothes, and the unironed seam of his trousers is annoying, but not as noticeable as his mismatched socks tucked into his scuffed work shoes. He mutters to himself as he buttons up his collar and smoothes the fabric out.

He recalls the haunting red flashing of the clock this morning, bleeping 7:43. At lunchtime Bellamy's stomach twists and growls with the demand for food; something, anything. There was no time to grab a bowl of museli this morning, and the chief has cut his lunch break for being late. There's nothing more he'd love than a falafel and hummus wrap from the healthy sandwich shop up the road. He hates falafel and hummus, but the sharp pangs of hunger lead him to desperation.

He blankly refuses Raven offers to join her in the cafeteria for tuna pasta bake with a side of the cook's stray beard hairs. He's desperate, but not that much. Besides, his workload is overwhelming because of Jaha. He still has numerous case files and folders on his desk to skim through and log. As a cop, desk duty is the worst punishment imaginable. He can't understand why Raven willingly suffers through it daily.

When he finally makes a dent in the pile of documents on his desk, it's almost time to go home. He yearns to eat or drink something to keep his energy up, but slumps in his chair as it's a hopeless venture for another two hours.

Raven hobbles over to his desk at half three, a wide smirk on her face. She hooks her dud leg on the table and taps her fingers against the leather and metal workings. Bellamy recalls the gang crossfire they were caught in six months ago. His shoulder still aches where the bullet penetrated his skin, but it's nothing compared to the agony Raven went through - is going through. The doctors said she'd never walk again, but she does, and very well, and she's astonished even the most critically acclaimed doctors in the state. She laughs about it all now, but Bellamy remembers the hopelessness and the fear.

He pulls himself out of his depressive thoughts and scrunches his nose at her. "I don't like that look," he mutters. "What are you planning now, Reyes?"

"We're meeting at Kane's bar for drinks. Join us? Echo will be there." Raven gestures with her head to the corner of the floor where Roan and Echo are deep in conversation.

"Reyes, our first two dates were a car crash. I don't feel like repeating that, okay? It's not meant to be. Set her up with Roan instead. You know, the guy she actually likes."

Raven pouts. "Echo's gorgeous. Why aren't you interested?"

"She is," Bellamy agrees. "She just isn't my type."

She scoffs. "She's exactly your type. Strong, lean, mysterious and angsty. That's your type, Bell, someone's gotta break it to ya."

Raven Reyes is never right. Unless it involves mechanics like a broken car or an old fridge, she's always wrong. Her attempts to fix things should only be limited to inanimate objects, in his professional opinion. He's perfectly content to remain single and alone, and there's nothing to be fixed here. Mostly.

Bellamy nudges her leg gently, fingers hooking into one of the brown straps. "Get off my desk and go do your work. I'll come tonight as long as you promise not to embarrass me by singing karaoke all night again."

Raven shrugs, and carefully stands. "I'm making no promises, partner."

The two hours until clock out pass quickly and he escapes the miserable building at 17:35 on the dot. The air fills with the smells of an evening in the small town he calls home. There are food stalls lining the pedestrianised roads in the centre of town, mixing various cultures so that all Bellamy can make out are a few spices. He passes a generic Starbucks and the whiff of coffee almost has him spinning on his feet. He will never stoop as low as a big tax-dodging chain company coffee. He reluctantly turns his gaze away from the people sitting at tables beyond the glass wall, and hurries to the street Cafe Green is on.

He's surrounded by tourists on the twenty minute journey there. They stand in the centre of the path, much to his frustration, taking pictures of plant pots and the flags waving delicately in the gentle wind. He takes a detour into a grocery store on the corner of the shopping district, and emerges minutes later six dollars out of pocket but with a protein bar and a cookie to munch on as he walks.

He unwraps the protein bar and greedily takes a bite when he suddenly remembers his plan to google Harmon this morning. He retrieves his phone from his bag and taps open the Chrome app, quickly searching Richard Harmon. When little pops up, he adds 'list of books' in the search box.

A website pops up below a wikipedia page. Bellamy taps the glass screen and the website opens up to a list with book cover icons. As he steps out onto the main street, mere minutes away from his coffee, he glances up every few seconds to ensure he isn't about to crash into an unsuspecting tourist. Harmon has eight published books with a ninth to be released in February. Bellamy has read all of them - Paradise Bay, At The Silverside Cliff and Dublin Dreams included. The only book Bellamy has not read is called Grounders, the first of a many book series, according to its brief description. Bellamy continues to gander the website, but nothing else intrigues him except for discovering Harmon is from vancouver and he's twenty-two years old. Bellamy admires someone that young and that accomplished.

The familiar cobblestones appear on his left and Bellamy sees the neon green Cafe Green sign in the distance. He hurries inside. Monty and Harper are behind the bar, chattering away. Monty has one hand rubbing Harper's plump belly as he mutters endearing declarations of love to his wife. Bellamy clears his throat.

"Hello lovebirds."

"Hi Bellamy!" Monty greets cheerfully, tapping Harper's baby bump. "I'm sorry I didn't stop to say hello last night, but that rain really sucked."

"It's all good Monty. I left in a rush too."

"We didn't see you this morning," Harper says, framing it as a question. Monty eases her onto a chair behind the counter.

"I overslept," he mumbles sheepishly, running a hand through his unbrushed curly hair. "Can I get my morning usual? I could really do with something strong right now."

"On it." Monty grins.

Monty grinds a handful of coffee beans and Bellamy leans on the bar after confirming his usual spot is free. It is. Monty comes back to him with a tall cardboard cup of coffee.

"Can I get the green tea sponge too? That's new, right?"

"Yep!" Monty digs a spatula from underneath the counter and opens the display cases from his side. "The white chocolate or milk?"

"White, please."

Bellamy's stomach churns as the smell of fresh cake wafts over to him. It's worse than the food stalls because Bellamy has an awful sweet tooth, and a keen nose for sugar. At least green tea cake is somewhat healthier. That's his reasoning, anyway.

"This is my recipe this time," Monty informs rather smugly. "I love Monroe's baking but as an asian... I had to." Monty retrieves a squeezy bottle of white chocolate and dribbles it over the sponge, and then moves the plate to a tray alongside his drink. Harper watches them silently.

Bellamy fishes his wallet out of his pocket and slides his card out.

"Bellamy, no-" Monty starts, and Bellamy glares, only half-hearted.

"Please let me pay. You never let me and I feel so guilty."

Monty thinks about it for a moment, flicking between an amused Harper and a stubborn Bellamy. "Fine," he mutters, "but I'm giving you the serviceman and old persons discount."

Bellamy gasps in offense. He's only thirty-two, and he's in his prime thank you very much. He taps his card against the reader and shoves it back in his wallet, which in turn he throws somewhere in the bottomless pit of his bag.

Bellamy takes the tray over to his usual table. Now that it's not raining, condensation doesn't fog his view of the street outside. It really is as though someone plucked a whole street from an English countryside town, complete with chocolate timber-framed structures and bay windows. It makes him want to go travelling.

He raises the cardboard cup and pops the plastic lid off, removing the cardboard strip that acts as a stopper and a stirring spoon. He gives the coffee a quick mix and places the stick on his tray. Blowing on the scalding liquid, Bellamy takes in the comforting aroma of vanilla beans and closes his eyes. He sips the coffee, adamantly trying not to burn his tongue with his eagerness. As soon as the liquid gold spills down his throat, the tension in his shoulders disappears and the crick in his neck feels instantly straightened out.

A few more sips later and Monty is sitting opposite him with a mug of chai tea in one hand, and he's handing Bellamy a brown package with the other, tied up with twine.

"What's this?" he inquires curiously. It's clearly a book; he's read enough to know their size and weight and how they feel in his hands.

"Have you tried the cake?" Monty tries. Bellamy only stares. "Oh fine, it's from Murphy."

"Murphy? The guy from last night?"

Monty nods.

"Why would he give me a book?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe he's seen how much you read and thinks you're cute. Whatever the reason, he asked for your name, scribbled on this, and then asked me to give it to you."

Bellamy hums. "Well, thank you. I don't really know him though."

Monty barks a laugh. "Haven't you spoken before? Murphy comes here almost as much as you when he's visiting his sister."

Bellamy shakes his head. He's never noticed. He tells Monty this much, who only laughs at him further.

"I can't say I'm surprised, you've always got your nose in a book. Now, try the damn cake."

He complies and takes a forkful of cake, now stodgy with warm melted white chocolate. He chews it thoughtfully. He's never been a fan of green tea as it's rather dull and too earthy for his tastebuds, but the cake is sweeter than expected (not as sweet as he would prefer) and he gives Monty a thumbs up as he chews and swallows. "'S'good, man. Always is."

"Great!"

Monty returns to the coffee bar where Harper is being overrun by a group of schoolgirls ordering complicated drinks. Monty has abandoned his empty tea cup on Bellamy's tray. Bellamy grins to himself and places his coffee down to turn the package slowly, examining the skilled wrapping. He remembers Murphy, the man from the pouring rain last night. The man Bellamy assumed was a student but said he travelled here for work. Murphy is attractive. As Raven would say, exactly his type. If this is flirting, Bellamy could used to it.

Inside is a book, a book he instantly recognises. It's Grounders. It's the book by Harmon he had been snooping at on the way here. It's a funny coincidence. He assumes Murphy has given it to him because of yesterday evening. Didn't Murphy suggest he's a fan too? Bellamy ponders what it means.

As he usually does, Bellamy places the book down and finishes his coffee and cake before he picks it up again. He skips the blurb and the dedications - he has seen those on the website - and opens up onto the first page. It's a science fiction. It begins with a civilisation on a space station forged by the many after a nuclear apocalypse. It's not his usual read, but the hook reels him in.

He gets a quarter through the book when his phone starts to buzz with continuous messages. When he finally retrieves it and unlocks it, it's Raven.

 

don't forget tonight x

i'm serious blake, arkies in an hour! x

wear something nice i have a date for you ❤️

it's a dude

he's a dude

he's a hot dude

 

Bellamy slides the book carefully into his bag and stands, but not before texting Raven a quick i'll be there x in reply. He drops the packaging and his cup into the recycling bin and returns the tray and plate to the coffee bar.

"Off early?" Harper questions, surprise evident.

"For once, there's somewhere I have to be."

Harper gasps and Bellamy rolls his eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, probably. My sister's coming down."

Harper grins. "I look forward to seeing her again, finally."

"I'll pass that on. See you later!"

Monty waves him off as he leaves the shop. Bellamy heads home to his apartment to change. The elevator jams on the third floor, but after a thirty second stutter, it begins to rise again. Bellamy's apartment is on the sixth floor, not quite the penthouse suite but nice enough. He checks his watch as he keys in his passcode. 19:35. Arkies in twenty-five minutes. He can make it.

Bellamy drops his bag on the bench in the hallway and peels off his uniform. He tosses the clothes into the laundry basket then heads to bedroom to rummage around for something nice. What Raven deems as nice, he's not sure. He settles for a pair of black skinny jeans with rips at the knees and a fitted white t-shirt. He's had many dates in casual get ups - most of which don't go well. Bellamy glances at himself in the mirror, brushing out the wrinkles of his shirt. He's... fairly attractive, he supposes. People seem to think so, but he's of the opinion they think that because he actually goes to the gym.

Bellamy's curiosity about this man Raven is setting him with is overwhelming. It's been months, years, since he's had a date with another guy, and he's interested. Not that he expects to hit it off, because Bellamy really is happy to be single. There are no family expectations for him to settle down, and he's not comparing himself to anyone as most of his friends are single. Something like guilt settles in his stomach. If Murphy is flirting with him, is being set up on a date... okay? He shakes his head. He's only spoken to Murphy once, he shouldn't get ahead of himself.

Bellamy keeps the watch on, and removes his phone, wallet, keys and police ID from his bag. He buries them in his pockets and leaves his apartment after making sure all the lights are turned off.

It's a cool evening, the November chill sweeping around him. It's not cold enough that he considers returning home for a jacket. Instead he walks at a fast pace to keep the blood flowing and his skin warm.

Raven calls him over when he opens the door to the pub. He recognises everyone in the corner. There's Echo, Roan, Jaha, Nathan and Nathan's father. There's another person there, back to Bellamy. He's surprised and intrigued to discover it's Murphy, the Cafe Green and book-giving guy.

"This is Murphy," Raven introduces immediately. "He's come all the way from Vancouver to work on his novel. He's also very single and very bisexual."

Bellamy grins at Murphy who dips his head and frowns, focusing on the table's beer stains.

"We've met," he says dryly.

"Yeah. Thanks for the book, Murphy."

Murphy puffs, a short, strained laugh. Raven glances between them.

"Are you two already dating or something? What's happening here?" She speaks with offense, as if Bellamy has been keeping secrets.

"I think we're at the flirting stage, since he's already started buying me gifts." Bellamy's heart jumps at the pink flush spreading across Murphy's cheeks. He's cute, when he's not exhausted or drenched in rainwater.

"Did you like the book?" Murphy smirks.

"I have yet to finish it actually. It's good so far, but not my usual read."

"Have you read many of his books?"

"This is the only book I haven't read. I've found the rest in Greens. It's odd you should have given me Grounders because just on the way to Monty's I was searching for a list of Harmon's books."

Murphy raises his drink to his lips - a tall glass with clear bubbling liquid. Vodka and lemonade, or maybe just lemonade. Bellamy eyes him as he sips. "How convenient," he murmurs.

"Do you know him? Since you're a writer too. Or are you a fan like me?"

Murphy tilts his head and stares out the window next to the booth, thinking. "You could say I know him very well."

Raven is the only one listening in. Nathan is engrossed in a conversation about - how to get away with murder. Literally, and not the TV show - with Echo and Roan, and Jaha has found a place at the bar to speak with Nathan's father and Kane, an ex-cop who owns the bar.

Raven claps her hands, and then slams them against the old oak table. "Since you two are getting on like a house on fire being giant nerds, bless my matchmaking, why don't you go buy each other a drink and go find your own table."

She sticks her tongue out and Bellamy snickers. His eyes meet Murphy's and the other man nods his permission.

"Want another?" Bellamy asks as they approach the bar. He keeps his distance from Jaha, avoiding another lecture about his lateness.

"Sure," Murphy agrees, gulping the rest of his drink in three mouthfuls. "Vodka and lemonade." He slides the glass back to one of the bartenders, nametag reading Sterling.

"So how did you meet Raven?" Bellamy wonders when they're sat in their own booth, drinks in hand.

"About an hour ago she had me by the throat, questioning if I shot her. I didn't, obviously. Apparently I look like the person who did though."

Bellamy gapes, and rakes his eyes over Murphy's face carefully. The sharp shape of his nose and his wide eyes, and the tufty locks of chocolate hair. His face is familiar. "I can see it," he agrees. "You could have a secret twin in this town. Unless you really did shoot her? I'm a cop, you know." Bellamy winks.

"Ha ha," Murphy mutters. "The Thelonius guy cleared everything up. I'm missing the identifying scar on my cheek. She apologised, and we started talking, and then she demanded I stay for a date. With you."

Bellamy snickers. "She sets me up a lot. Mostly unsuccessfully."

"She'd get along with my sister."

They drink is silence for a while, Bellamy watching people come in and out of the pub, chatter amongst friends, smile, sometimes they wave as they recognise him, but mostly they stick to their groups. He feels Murphy's gaze on him and he's pleased to realise he doesn't mind it. Murphy is handsome. Maybe it's the alcohol talking or maybe Raven has gotten something right. Sure, Murphy has tired eyes - not as bad as yesterday - and his nose is crooked and his lips chapped, but there's something... he cannot put his finger on. He remembers how Murphy looks in the rain, soaked through, and he was gorgeous then but today he's on another level. High cheekbones, strong jawline and those collarbones. Bellamy swallows, mouth dry.

Murphy orders another round of drinks, switching to jack-and-cokes.

"How are you liking the book?"

"Like I said, I've not read much, but it's good. The hook is really nice; the discovery that the life support on the space station is failing, and sending the hundred prisoners to the ground. I'm not usually a science fiction fan but it's... written really well, I guess. I thought Harmon only wrote romances."

The corner of Murphy's lips curl, unnoticed by Bellamy. "I thought so too, but apparently not. Do you read a lot?"

"Yeah, always have. I like classics and myths, they're fun. What about you?"

"Ah..." Murphy shrugs. "I read as much as I can, but my writing time eats into my free time, usually."

Bellamy perks up suddenly. "Your novel! So that's what you were writing yesterday? You looked like a student, honestly. What's your novel about?"

"It's still a secret at the moment. Maybe I'll give you a copy when it's finally published? I've been going through my editor's notes and trying to implement their suggestions, since it's due for print in a few months."

Bellamy makes an exaggeratedly sad face. "That sounds stressful. Do you want to trade numbers? I'd love to read it when it's done. I'd also, um," Bellamy thinks about his words carefully, and the potential they hold. "I'd really like to do this again. Lunch, maybe? If you're down. You don't have to, obviously.

Murphy grins, and happiness looks fantastic on him. After he reads off his number to Bellamy, Bellamy pings him a text and shoves his phone back in his pocket. Bellamy remembers Murphy is only visiting from Vancouver, his nerves begin to build until-

"I'd love to do this again too. You can give me some good reading reccomendations." Murphy winks and Bellamy's going to see that in his dreams tonight.

"Only if you write a romance novel about our dramatic love."

The rest of the night gooes smoothly, incredibly so. They talk to Raven and Roan and the others throughout the night, but Bellamy is only concentrating on getting to know Murphy, whose first name he learns is John. It's a nice name, one that suits him, but he won't let Bellamy use it.

Bellamy learns Murphy comes into Cafe Green because his sister is dating Monroe, and that he's twenty-two years old. At first, ten years of an age gap concerns Bellamy, but Murphy is mature and sure of himself and insists he doesn't mind one bit. Bellamy discovers Murphy went to college to study Creative Writing and Journalism, and he makes his fortune (or lack of it) writing magazine articles and publishing reviews.

The evening comes to a close, and around three in the morning they're outside, ushering a far from sober Raven into the back of an uber, giving the driver directions. Bellamy presses close to Murphy as they watch her leave, and Bellamy offers to walk him back to his hotel, which might be just down the road but Bellamy is very drunk and a good guy kind of drunk, mostly.

"Sure," Murphy grins. "A personal cop escort? I almost wish you were in uniform."

Bellamy snorts and throws an arm around Murphy's shoulders, stumbling down the road where he can see 'ARK' in bright lights on the side of a gigantic multi story building. Murphy shakes under his grip from the autumn air, and Bellamy wishes he had his jacket with him now, to offer it to Murphy. That's how people flirt, isn't it?

"How long are you staying here for?" Bellamy asks - tries to ask, but it comes out more of a slur of random words.

"A while. Might move here, maybe, possibly, I don't know."

Bellamy hums and they stop outside the hotel building, embracing the warmth radiating off each other. Murphy pulls away, Bellamy's reluctant to let him go.

"Text me, okay?" Murphy murmurs, and in the light of the hotel, he's beautiful, and Bellamy's never felt this way about a first date.

"I will."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Bellamy chuckles, and Murphy shyly looks away. Alcohol thrums through Bellamy's bloodstream, heart rapidly beating and palms sweaty.

"Goodnight," Bellamy says, and Murphy echoes the same.

He goes for it, he's brave. Bellamy swoops in and kisses Murphy's cheek, surprised at the ice cold skin. He hurries away as soon as his lips break contact, unable to look at Murphy.

If Bellamy had turned back, he'd see a very red Murphy holding his cheek, as if he'd been slapped and not kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to delete and re-post this chapter hhhgjh.  
> i'm not sure if it makes sense or flows or is realistic and soft and romantic but i'm kind of winging it and i like it
> 
> breathes
> 
> come talk to me! suggest prompts! my twitter is murphamyweek and my tumblr  
> is murphamy-week wahoo


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy idly plays with his phone in the cafe. The styrofoam cup on the table billows steam as he waits for it to cool down. He stares at the screen, swiping the contact list up and down with his thumb. He thinks about texting Murphy; would he be awake? Does he want Bellamy to text him, especially after last night's kiss? No. But Murphy told Bellamy to text him, which means he wants to text but-

Breathe. Close your eyes.

Bellamy does. He locks his phone, places it blindly on the table, and counts to ten.

When he reaches ten, he opens his eyes. His gaze lands on the phone again, but he pulls it away. He picks up the styrofoam cup, hot but not boiling to the touch, and takes a tentative sip. It's just right. He finishes his coffee as he stares out of the window at the rush of people on their way to work. He glances at his watch as he drinks. He too has to leave for work soon.

He managed to wake up on time today.

He didn't want to. His dreams were full of knotty brown hair and chapped pink lips and _hands and fingers and mouths and_ \- Bellamy needs to stop remembering. His face is not warm from only the coffee steam. He moves the cup away from his face, closes his eyes, and counts to ten again. 

This time, when he opens his eyes, it's the same time that the bell above the cafe door chimes. _Murphy_ walks into Cafe Green, the same bag slung over his shoulder. His hair is as messy as ever, clothes unironed, shoelaces tucked into the side of his shoes instead of tied up. Bellamy can't help but drag his eyes up and down, appreciating that someone so disheveled could make his heart race. 

Murphy meets Bellamy's gaze. He pauses, and a look flashes across his face as if he wants to run away, but he doesn't. Murphy smiles. He orders his coffee, only glancing over his shoulder once, and when Harper places it on the counter and whispers something Bellamy can't hear, Murphy approaches Bellamy's table and sits opposite. 

"Hey," he says.

"Hi." 

His voice is an octave higher than he would have preferred. Bellamy runs a hand through his hair, ignoring the warmth creeping up his neck and cheeks. 

"I thought you would have already asked me out again," Murphy says. He sounds disappointed.

"Ah. I was-"

"Fretting? Worrying? Harper said you've been moping all morning."

"Well. I just-"

"If it's about the kiss, it's fine. I'm fine. We're fine. It was sweet."

"You're not put off? Even though I didn't ask?"

Murphy rolls his eyes. "It was a kiss on the cheek. It would have been different if you shoved your hand down my trousers."

"Right."

Bellamy feels stupid.

"So are we good?" Murphy asks, and Bellamy nods. "If you want to kiss me again, you don't have to ask. I'm down."

Bellamy's going to explode if Murphy keeps talking. He's not shy; he's never been shy. But this is... not a way he's ever felt before. Murphy is different. Bellamy can't put his finger on why, but there's something about him that makes Bellamy feel like he's known him for years. He's brash and Bellamy suspects a little rude, but he's soft underneath it all. 

"Dude, Bellamy. That was an invitation. I'd really like to kiss you again."

Bellamy nods dumbly. Murphy surges forward across the table and wraps his fingers around Bellamy's tie to tug him forward. Their lips meet messily, and Bellamy lets Murphy take what he wants, eager to give. Murphy's tongue tastes Bellamy's bottom lip and then he pulls away, grinning.  Bellamy leans backward slowly, stunned. He glances at his watch. 

"I have to go," Bellamy says. "Not because of that. That was great, but I have to go to work. Right now."

Murphy waves him away. Bellamy shoves his phone in pocket, throws his bag over his shoulder and grabs his half-empty coffee. He bends down to press a gentle kiss to Murphy's lips, and leaves before he - or Harper, who he calls goodbye to - can say anything. It's a cool morning. The occasional spit of rain lands on his hair and shoulders as he rushes to work. The cool temperature outside calms him down, makes him shudder. His head aches, his heart races. He's not sure what to make of this.

Romances are not supposed to be fleeting and built in two days. They take time. They're curated over months if not years, and it's not supposed to feel so good. Right?

Life is not a Disney movie. 

He's not in love. This is not love at first sight. 

But it feels like it. 

When he gets to work, Jaha is standing in the center of the office block with his arms crossed. 

"Just on time," he says curtly. Bellamy mockingly salutes and rushes to his desk. He takes what he needs out of his bag and shoves it into the locked drawer. 

When he sits down and switches on his computer, Raven has wheeled her chair to his desk. She slouches comfortably and raises one eyebrow. "So," she says.

Bellamy huffs. "So."

"How did it go? You abandoned us all night."

"I did not. And it went perfectly fine, thank you. Much better than the Echo fiascoes."

Raven grins. "I knew you two would get along. He looks rough but he's such a nerd."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You're on patrol with Miller today."

Bellamy scoffs, until he sees Raven's straight face. "Wait, you're serious? Jaha never puts me with Miller. He hates us together."

Raven shrugs. "You must have done something right, then."

"Maybe he's happy that I've finally started dating someone."

The squeaking of Raven's rocking chair pauses. Bellamy looks up; she looks at him. "Dating? Officially? You two are a thing?"

He can't resist the grin that spreads across his face, nor the warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach. "Just dating. Not exactly official, but I hope so soon, I think. He's nice, Raven. I really like him."

Her pony tail flicks over the back of her chair as she kicks her leg up on the desk. "I haven't heard that since Clarke. I'm thrilled for you, dude."

His stomach sinks at the mention of her name. He loved Clarke - still loves, maybe. She moved to the big city two years ago after ending things with Bellamy. She didn't want to stay. Bellamy didn't want to keep her somewhere she didn't feel comfortable. So he let her go, and now she's engaged to the owner of a publishing house called _Lexa_. Her name used to fill Bellamy's mouth with something metallic and bitter, but not anymore. He's over it. He's let Clarke go. But it's still a sore spot for him. 

"I better go find Miller," he says with a smile.

"No need. I found you."

"Why's boss put us together?" Bellamy asks. He unlocks the drawer and retrieves his hand gun and holster. Fastening it to his body is just as natural as putting on his clothes these days.

Miller grins, rocking on his feet. Bellamy smiles at him, tilts his head. "Drug raid," Miller blurts. "I'm stoked, dude. Cocaine and heroine. Supposed to be like five hundred thousand bucks worth."

Bellamy whistles. "What other teams?"

Miller gestures over his shoulder with his thumb. "Everyone except Raven apparently."

Raven scoffs. "You know I'd never let that happen, Miller." 

He chuckles and taps Bellamy on the arm. "We're leaving in fifteen. Take a piss if you need to." With that he leaves, approaching Jaha with the easy confidence of a suck up. 

"I need to text Murphy," Bellamy says, sitting down. "Where should I take him for dinner?"

"Niylah's. Absolutely Niylah's."

Bellamy sighs. He wants to take Murphy somewhere fancier than Niylah's. A little more expensive, a little more classy. "Not Niylah's."

"Yes Niylah's," Raven insists. "He said when he's not writing at Monty's he's at Niylah's. He likes it there, so you should take him somewhere he likes."

"Wouldn't that be boring?"

Raven kicks his desk with her good foot. The pen pot on the surface shakes like a gentle earthquake has hit. "No. It's thoughtful. You need to fucking listen to me more, Bellamy."

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "Yeah, alright," he mutters. Raven chuckles, glides to her desk and finally signs in to her computer. He whips his phone out of his bag in the drawer before locking it back up, and sends Murphy an invitation to dinner tonight. He doesn't say where, but Bellamy supposes Niylah's is better than nowhere. He knows the woman through Monroe, knows her food is good. But it's a steakhouse, a grub grill, a burger joint. Not fine dining but maybe Murphy prefers it that way. They won't get wine, but soda and coffee are just as good. His heart thumps harder at the thought of taking Murphy out. His palms go sweaty and he can't stop his wide smile. He hopes Murphy says yes.

Ten minutes pass and Bellamy takes Miller's advice and goes for a piss before gearing up. Bullet proof vest on, helmet on. Drugs were not a serious problem in their small corner of the world, but it's an increasing problem in all small towns and Jaha is determined to squash any smuggling bugs under his boots. The thrill of storming a drug den does fill Bellamy with a rush of adrenalin and what it means to be alive, so he doesn't mind the risk. Enjoys it, even. 

The ride to the house is not fast. They do not turn the blue lights on; they go in unmarked cars, park a distance away, and sneak past tall walls and fences until the house is surrounded. Bellamy unsheathes his gun, as does Miller, and they crouch behind the backyard gate, ready to pounce on anyone trying to get away in the chaos. 

The signal comes with the nod of a head and shouts fill the street as the front door is rammed down. The front team storm the house. Bellamy hears the shouts, the screeches, but no gunshots. But glass breaks. The backyard gate swings open and a startled boy - barely older than seventeen if Bellamy had to guess - freezes like a deer in headlights. 

"Don't shoot!" Bellamy shouts to the back guard, training his own gun on the kid. "Hands up and on your knees!" 

He does as told and Miller cuffs him, shoves him flat on the dusty gravel ground. The second signal comes. The house is under their control. They leave the boy with another team and Bellamy follows Miller inside the house. It's filthy. Dog hair and mud cover the kitchen floor. Smoke odour and damp fills his nostrils. Four men are pinned to the ground whilst the team carry wrapped packages of drugs to the waiting van outside, and two detectives bag up weapons and bloodied napkins.

One of the men on the ground catches his focus. He looks directly at Bellamy with widened, alarmed eyes. He's familiar. Floppy hair, crooked nose, a scar above his eye-

He shot Raven. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter this time! sorry for the Huuuuge delay in updating. I'm currently deciding where I wanna take this, but I promise I won't abandon it, even if I take a long time to update! though hopefully that won't happen again lol


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